New Memories, New Life
by rynogeny
Summary: Here be my entries for the Bonesology Microfiction challenge - a series of short one shots, each based on a specific word. (Word lists are posted at the forum.) As an extra challenge, mine are connected, sequential, and explore B&B's life post-S10 finale. Note: The words may or may not appear in the story, and my stories won't follow the order of the word lists.
1. Finger

~Finger~

Early morning light filtered softly into the bedroom. With regret, Booth knew it would soon awaken his heavily pregnant wife, and apart from her need for sleep, he was enjoying these quiet moments of just watching her. He'd missed this during those weeks they'd been apart.

She was facing him, on her side, her right hand tucked beneath her cheek, the left resting in front of her belly. His eyes were drawn to that hand, to the ring on her third finger.

She'd never taken it off. During those days when he'd been lying to her, to himself, hell, to everyone they'd ever known...she'd not taken it off. More than once, he'd looked, privately terrified that he'd see she'd removed it. And he'd deserved that, had deserved to lose what mattered most, because the most valuable thing he'd gambled with hadn't been money. It had been her, and what they had together. He reached out and lightly touched the ring.

And yet...she'd loved him anyway, and had never given up on him. On them. _"I have faith in you."_

"Booth?" Her voice sleepy, she shifted a little, and her hand brushed his. She linked their fingers, then opened her eyes, and gave him a drowsy smile. "I thought we were sleeping in."

"We are." There was no rush to get up, as Christine had spent the night with Max. He touched the ring again, remembering the day he'd placed it on her finger. "Thanks for not taking it off, Bones."

She yawned. "That would have been equivalent to admitting defeat." With that, she burrowed back into her pillow, her eyes drifting closed again.

Thank God he'd fallen in love with a stubborn woman.


	2. Attentive

~Attentive~

Brennan shifted in a bid to find a more comfortable position, though this far into her pregnancy there was no such thing. A small pillow behind her back and her feet propped on the ottoman Booth had bought for her helped some, but ...no. She wouldn't be truly comfortable again until the baby was born.

Quiet from the other end of the house told her that he had succeeded in getting Christine settled down. Her bedtime was getting later and later, because Booth couldn't resist the little girl's pleas for 'just one more book' - particularly not since he'd returned home. They'd address that, eventually, but they'd decided to make these first few days after they'd left their jobs a break from routine for all of them.

He quietly stepped into the main living area, and moved toward the kitchen. "Can I get you anything, Bones? Tea? Water?"

"No, I'm fine. Is she asleep?"

"Yeah." He settled next to her, beer in hand, and gently ran his hand over her belly. "And good night to you, too, Tiger," he murmured. "You need to let your mom get some rest tonight."

The baby, quiet until then, moved, and gave a light kick. Brennan took Booth's hand and pressed it over where the movement had been, and watched him grin in response to the next, stronger, kick. The baby never failed to respond to his voice, and that fascinated her. Christine had been the same way.

He set the beer aside, and shifted so she could curl against him, her head on his shoulder. "Your back bothering you?"

"It's not bad."

"Still." He slipped his hand down her back, began a gentle massage.

She sighed in pleasure. "You know. You always know."

"That's my job."


	3. Plan

(This follows immediately after chapter 2, "Attentive.")

~Plan~

Brennan groaned, low in her throat, and Booth smiled as he continued to massage her lower back. It was a sound he was familiar with from other, more intimate types of massage, but he figured anytime he heard it, he was doing something right.

"That's good," she murmured. "Thank you." With a contented sigh, she curled further into him.

They sat in relaxed silence for a few minutes and then he said, "Caroline called earlier." He reached for his beer. "She's working with a youth shelter, and wants me to come on board as a mentor. 'Seeley Booth, you can only spend so many hours a day bickering with your wife,'" he said in a fair imitation of the prosecutor - and friend - he adored.

Brennan's gaze was thoughtful. "She's correct," she finally said. "You'll need something productive to do. We'll have Christine, and the baby, and I'll have my next book, but you'll go mix crazy with nothing more than that to keep you occupied."

"Stir crazy, Bones." He grinned, certain that she knew perfectly well what the usual form of the saying was. Then he sobered. "I'd been thinking I might find a house to rehab," he said casually.

She faced him more fully. "You don't like this one?"

"I love this one. But this would be to sell, not to live in. Where we take a rundown house, rehab it, and then sell it for a profit. I think I'd be good at it."

She didn't respond immediately. "You and Wendell did very good work on our first home, and you seemed to enjoy doing so. That might be very satisfying for you," she said slowly. "But..."

When she didn't continue, he prompted her. "What, Bones?"

"I believe you should consider helping Caroline as well. Making a difference in the world is important to you, and mentoring young people before they break the law might also be quite satisfying for you."

He took a drink of the beer. "Maybe."


	4. Complicated

~Complicated~

Booth eyed his wife from the bathroom door. She was already in bed, reading from one of her sciency magazines. "Bones, we really need to decide on the baby's name."

"We have a name."

"We have a girl's name." He crawled onto the bed and stretched out next to her. "We need a boy's name. We've been going around on this for weeks."

"You keep calling him Tiger, but that's because you want a boy."

"Since we've got our girl, yeah, a boy would be fun, but I really just want a healthy baby - you know that. But we still need a name for both."

Brennan sighed, and dropped the magazine. "I know."

"It's too bad he - or she - was shy during the ultrasound."

"The child is too young to demonstrate behaviors such as shyness," she said primly. "He was just positioned in a way that prevented the determination of gender during my ultrasound exam, and I'm electing not to have any additional exams that are medically unnecessary due to that new research."

"Right. Still need a name."

Her look of annoyance turned sly. "We could name him Seeley."

"Only if you agree to Temperance if it's a girl," Booth said promptly.

"Unusual names are a source of teasing for children. I prefer not to burden our children in such a way."

"Yeah, tell me about it." He rolled over to stare at the ceiling. "What goes with Henry?"

"Was that your grandfather's actual name, rather than Hank?" To comfort, Brennan threaded her fingers through his. "What was his middle name?"

"Melvin."

She shook her head. "I don't care for that - but a two syllable name would flow better. Or Henry could also be a middle name," she said thoughtfully.

Booth grinned. "Tiger Henry Booth?"

"This is why we don't have a name yet."


	5. Bad

What do you think?"

Booth stood in the doorway of their former guest bedroom and tried to figure out how to answer his due-any-moment wife's question. The paint on the wall, intended to be a mural, reminded him of nothing so much as a crime scene where the victim had been a rainbow. "It's colorful, but Bones...what is it?"

She scowled. "It's animals in their native habitats." She pointed to the splotches of paint nearest them, "Giraffes and zebras from the African savanna," and then motioned further down the wall, "jaguars from the Amazon. And that's a bald eagle from the Pacific Northwest," she said, indicating the far corner.

He saw only multi-color blobs, though now that he knew what they - probably - were, he figured the green things were jungle trees. Or maybe really big green frogs.

"Hey, that one's not bad." He pointed to a gray blob low on the wall. "That's an elephant, right?"

"Christine painted that. She's very good for her age." She sighed, and rubbed her belly. "I wanted to have it ready before the baby is born, but it appears that unless it's a human skeletal system, I'm unable to adequately render it." She turned to him, her expression sad. "We had Christine's room ready well before she was born, remember?"

Guilt settled like sick ball in his stomach. Preparing for the baby hadn't been a priority due to his gambling. And to make it worse, he couldn't even fix it - he couldn't draw any better than Brennan could. God knew where Christine came by her elephant-drawing ability.

But he knew someone who could. He fished his phone out of his pocket.

"Who are you calling?"

"Angela."


	6. Splatter

Brennan heard the giggles before she reached the kitchen, and paused, smiling at Christine's laughter intermingled with Booth's deeper voice, the words indistinct. This was what she'd wanted for them, for all of them. What they'd needed.

She stepped out, and then just stood there, gaping at the mess. Booth and Christine were at the island, the little girl on a stool. A mixing bowl was in front of her, baking ingredients set out on the counter - though it looked like as much flour was on the two of them as was in the bag or the bowl.

"Mommy! Daddy's teaching me how to make pancakes! Though he has to cook them."

Booth grinned over at her. "Don't look so worried, mom. We'll clean it up." He glanced down at Christine. "Right?"

She nodded. "Because cleaning it up is part of the cooking."

"That's right." He moved a measuring cup closer to her. "Now we measure the oil."

"Watch me, Mommy!" With Booth helping her, she poured oil into the cup.

"Do you see the line that says '1/4th'?That's where we're stopping."

"What does that mean?"

"I'll let your mom explain fractions to you when you're five." He grinned over at Brennan. "For now, it's just an amount. Remember how we talked about how the amounts have to be right?"

"Not too much flour."

"Or oil."

Brennan eased onto a stool across from them, so she could watch as they poured the oil into the dry ingredients and began to mix - thankfully, without much splatter. "You're doing a very good job, Christine."

"Daddy's helping."

"I see that." She exchanged a smile with him. "He's a very good daddy."

"Oops. That's enough mixing," Booth said, his gaze dropping from Brennan back to the bowl. "Now we heat the griddle, and cook them."

"Can I watch?"

Booth laughed, and turned the stove on. "Sure thing, but let's move the stool a bit."

The happy chatter continued as he demonstrated how to cook the pancakes, but somehow, the mood had shifted, and Brennan didn't know why.


	7. Day

A/N: Some of you have asked about things I've not fully explained. I'm setting up a couple of different arcs with this, telling them in small scenes. It's somewhat of an experiment, but I've still got 93 chapters to go, so hopefully it will all work out. Also, for those who might worry - none of it will be too angsty; it's all just continuing to work through everything that happened in the spring.

Thanks for reading!

~Day~

"So how did your day go?" Supper was over, Christine was in her room, and, settled with her tea while Booth took care of the dishes, Brennan finally had the opportunity to ask what she'd been wondering for the past hour.

"Okay, I guess. It's a mix of kids. Some are closer to going over the edge than others." He rinsed a plate, put it into the dishwasher, and then stopped and looked at her. "There's this boy there, about fourteen, I guess. You'd be a better mentor for him than I would be. Mom's an addict, haven't seen her for months, dad's not in the picture. They keep putting him into foster homes; he keeps running away because he wants to be with his older cousin. Only family's he got, I guess."

Curious, she asked, 'Why would I be a better mentor for him?"

"He never misses a day of school, Bones. Homeless, living in a shelter for teens, and he makes it to school every damned day, they tell me. IQ off the charts, good with math."

"And the cousin?"

"He's been in and out of juvie. Petty theft, mostly, to support a drug habit. He's just turned eighteen, and that was a wake-up call, apparently. He's trying to get clean, I think, but..."

"But what?"

"What can I do for him? Show him what it looks like to fail?" His tone bitter, Booth brought his hands up, scrubbed his face. "I don't know what Caroline was thinking."

Brennan set her glass down a little more sharply than she'd intended, slid off the stool, and went to where he now stood, hands braced on the counter in front of him. "No. You show him what it looks like to come back from failure." He turned, stared at her. "It matters, Booth. You can understand him in a way I couldn't. And isn't that the reason Gamblers Anonymous works? Gavin can help you because he's been where you are? It's not the same, because the addictions are different. But you can still show him that it's possible to fight it. That a clean life is worth fighting for." Her voice was quiet.

He hesitated, and then pulled her to him, resting his forehead against hers. "Maybe something good can come from all my crap."


	8. Want

~Want~

"Daddy?"

"What, sweetheart?" Booth looked up from his newspaper, over to where Christine sat at her little desk, coloring. But the crayon gripped in her hand wasn't moving, and the expression on her face was one Brennan wore when she was determined to get to the bottom of something. It seldom ended well for him.

"Why do you only want a boy baby?"

Dumbstruck, he stared at her. "What?"

"Why do you only want-"

"I meant, what makes you think that?" Some days, she was a lot more her mother's daughter than his. He went over to the little table and crouched next to her.

"I heard mommy say you want a boy. Did you want me to be a boy?"

"God, no." Where did kids come up with this stuff? He scooped her up, crayon and all, and took her to the couch, where he settled with her on his lap. "I wanted you to be exactly who you are. Do you know that one of the very happiest days of my life was when your mom told me she was going to have you?"

"It was?"

"Yes." The memory made him smile. "And then you were born, and that was an even better day."

She frowned. "How could a day be better than the happiest day?"

Definitely her mother's daughter. "Different kinds of happy."

"So it's okay for me to be a girl, but you want a boy now?"

"It's not okay that you're a girl," he said firmly. "It's wonderful that you're a girl. And I want the baby to be whatever God sends us. A boy would be fun, because then I wouldn't be outnumbered when Parker's not around, but a girl? How lucky would I be then, surrounded by smart, brave girls?"

"Parker's a boy, and Michael Vincent is a boy. I want a girl."

He suddenly pictured himself being driven crazy by two little mini-Brennans, and smiled. "We'll just have to wait and see. But we'll love the baby, either way, right?"

She leaned against him. "I guess. But I'd still rather have a girl to love."


	9. Build

~Build~

Booth pulled into the driveway of the dilapidated little house, put the truck in part, and turned to Brennan. "This is it, Bones."

She pulled her gaze away from the neighborhood, and studied the structure. "It needs a lot of work."

"It does, and the neighborhood isn't the best. It's trying to come back, though." He motioned back the way they'd just come. "Other homes are being rehabbed, and remember what you said about our first house? This has good bones."

Brennan opened the file folder he'd given her, studied the data there.

"It makes sense to start with something small," he continued, "since I don't know how much time Wendell will be able to help out."

That brought a frown to her face. "Can you do it by yourself, when he's unavailable? He is quite busy completing his dissertation."

"Let me show it to you." He got out, waited for her to join him, and then took her hand, led her closer to the house. "Remember Keith and Marcellus? The two boys Caroline is mentoring, from the teacher case? I've been talking to them and to Caroline, and I want them to help me."

She knew him well. "You want to rehab the house for them."

"Sweat equity. They help rehab it as a down payment, and then we sell it to them on contract. Caroline thinks Keith is ready for that kind of responsibility, and it gets them out of their current neighborhood, which isn't the best for Marcellus."

Brennan smiled. "You just can't help yourself, can you?"

"What?"

"I think it's an excellent idea, and a great use of your skills. There's not much financial profit in this, though," she cautioned.

Some of his excitement faded and he dropped her hand. "Yeah, I know. That's why I wanted your input." He turned to stare back at the house. "If you'd rather I find a different property-"

"No, Booth." Brennan reached over, turned his face to hers. "I like that you want to use your skills to help others." She thumped him lightly on the chest, and then rested her palms there. "You are a very good man."

He hesitated. "I want to be."

Exasperation laced her tone. "Why can't you see that the fact that it matters so much is part of why you are?"

He shook his head, but met her eyes. "I just need to feel like I've earned it."

Brennan looked over at the house, thought of the two brothers it would help. "You are. You will."


	10. Embrace

(Note: This was a rather experimental piece for me, as it's not a point of view I've tried to write before.)

* * *

~Embrace~

Christine woke, her heart pounding, her arms wrapped tightly around Bunny. She couldn't quite remember the dream, but it had been scary, and she had been alone.

She wasn't alone, she knew that. And she was a big girl. She was going to be an older sister.

But she felt alone, never mind Bunny.

Taking the rabbit with her, she slipped out of bed and crept to the door. It was open a bit, a crack of light illuminating her room enough for her to see. She opened it a bit more, and then smiled at the voices she could hear coming from the living room. She couldn't understand the words, but Mommy said something and it made Daddy laugh.

It was a nice sound.

Softly, she padded down the hall, peeked around the corner so she could see them. They were on the sofa, with Daddy's arms around Mommy. He whispered something to her, and now it was her turn to laugh. And then she kissed him.

Christine liked it when they kissed.

It had been scary during those days when Daddy wasn't there. He and Mommy had both said that he still loved them, but Mommy had been sad, and there hadn't been any laughter at all.

It was better now. Daddy was there to make silly pancakes, tuck her in at night, and make Mommy laugh.

No longer afraid, but not quite ready to go back to her bed, she laid down on the floor, right where she was, and rested her head on Bunny. She could go join them, she knew, but she liked watching them.

She was nearly asleep when she heard, "Looks like we've got an audience, Bones."

And just that fast she went from the floor to curled up on Daddy's lap, while Mommy tucked the sofa throw around her. "Did you have a nightmare, Christine?"

She shook her head, burrowed into them. "Bunny likes to watch you kiss."

Daddy laughed, and she felt him kiss her hair. "Bunny is a peeping tom."


	11. Stranded

I've been posting on two different schedules, with Bonesology running a couple of days ahead of here. But that's getting confusing, so I'm posting two chapters today in an effort to catch up. (This is also a particularly good place to do so, as the next chapter follows on from this one.)

* * *

~Stranded~

The umbrella Brennan was using in a vain attempt to keep the rain at bay had blocked her view at first. Already exhausted from a long afternoon of running errands, she wanted nothing more than to go home and put her swollen feet up, and when she saw the flat tire, she stared at it in disbelief for a full five seconds before storing her dripping bags in the floor of the backseat with an annoyed sigh.

She was perfectly capable of changing a tire, and had done so on more than one occasion. But doing so when she was nearly full-term, in the pouring rain, wouldn't be wise. Grateful for road service, she settled into the driver's seat to call them.

Ten minutes later, she stared at the phone in disbelief. Three _hours_? How could every tow truck in DC be out on service calls? Frustrated, she considered her other options. Booth was at a GA meeting, the very last place she wanted to interrupt him, so that was out. She could call Max, but he had Christine for the night, and she didn't want him to bring the little girl out into the storm.

Of course, there was no law that said the tire had to be changed tonight. She could take a taxi home and they'd deal with the tire the next day.

...Or not. Apparently everyone in DC whose car was being towed was taking a taxi home. The dispatcher also told her that flash flooding was complicating travel in some areas as well, so a taxi was also out of the question unless she wanted to wait for hours.

Angela and Hodgins were out of town on a short vacation; Cam and Arastoo's phones went straight to voice mail and an automated voice told her it was unable to connect to Wendell at all. The weather was probably playing mayhem on the mobile network.

She considered again calling Max, but the storm was intensifying, and Christine had recently developed a fear of thunder and lightning. She'd change the damned tire herself, pregnant or not, before asking him to bring her daughter out in this.

Although it wasn't particularly cold, she was shivering, and that finally forced her to acknowledge that she was being irrational. She'd text Booth, though, rather than calling him, in hope that maybe it would be less disruptive.

When another crash of thunder made her wonder if a text would even go through, she reluctantly sent the message. _"Safe. Flat tire, tow truck will take hours. I'm fine waiting_." The last was an exaggeration, given the tears she couldn't quite stem, but she wouldn't tell him that. They were no doubt hormonal, anyway.

Her phone buzzed immediately with a return text. " _Where are you_?"

She sent back the address, and added, " _Finish your meeting. I'm fine_."

" _On my way. There in twenty minutes_."

Damn it. Relief tangled with worry, but she was being irrational and knew it. Leaving one meeting early wouldn't cause him to relapse. She'd told him she had faith in him, and she did. So she would demonstrate it.


	12. Promise

(Immediate sequel to Stranded.)

~Promise~

Brennan eased back against the support of the sofa with a contented sigh. She was dry, her feet were up, and she had a cup of her favorite tea. Hearing steps, she looked over as Booth came into the room, fresh from his shower. He'd been soaked through by the time they arrived home.

"I'll take your car tomorrow and see about getting the tire fixed, or getting a new one," he said.

"You don't need to do that. I'm capable of taking the car to the shop."

"Of course you are. But why should you, when you have me?" He grinned as he joined her.

Independence warred with a desire to just stay home the following day. Pregnancy won. "Thank you. And thank you for changing the tire."

His expression turned serious, and he shifted, drawing her close. "I was glad to. You know that."

"I do. But I regret that you left your GA meeting to do so."

"I'm fine, Bones." At her look, he continued, "There's a meeting at St. Mark's tomorrow night. I'll go to that one. I promise."

"It's important."

"Yeah, it is. But..."

"But what?"

"The meetings keep me focused, but they're not _why_ I want to stay clean. If I'm not there for you because I'm at a meeting, what's the point?"

The intensity in his voice made her glad she'd not told him that he was her last resort. "I knew you'd come. I never questioned that." Against her, he shifted, and seemed to relax.

They sat in quiet for a few moments, and then she became aware of his scent and the feel of his chest against her shoulder, the strength of his arms around her. He smelled like his soap, and was dressed in a soft t-shirt and sweats. Fresh. Clean. _Booth_.

She shifted a bit, and slid her hand up his chest, and around the back of his neck so she could draw him to her for a kiss.

Suddenly she wasn't tired at all.


	13. Blackout

Booth sat on the sofa, listening to the rain. Christine was asleep on one side of him, her head in his lap, while Brennan was curled up against him on the other side. A few of the candles were burning low, but they had plenty, and the app on his phone provided by the electric company reassured him that the power should be back on within the next hour or so.

It had been storming off and on for over twenty-four hours, but it seemed the storms might have finally spent themselves. He'd not heard thunder for a while.

For his family's sake, he was glad. He'd arrived home an hour earlier from his GA meeting to find Christine nearly hysterical over the storm and the power failure, and Brennan close to tears herself, unsure of how to reassure her.

For his sake, he didn't mind sitting there together in the quiet, listening to the storm die.

"Is she still asleep?" Brennan stirred against him.

"Yeah. She wore herself out. They're working on the power, so we'll just let her sleep here until it's back on, and then I'll carry her to bed."

Brennan rested her forehead against his shoulder. "I don't know what to do for her."

"You're doing fine, Bones."

She reached out and lightly touched Christine's hair. "I don't recall being afraid of weather when I was her age."

Softly, he said, "It's not unusual for kids to be afraid of storms. A lot of adults don't like them, either."

"I don't want to tell her there's no risk, because she does need to know how to be safe."

"When I came in, she was upset, but she was listening to your explanation of what causes storms and black-outs, and was asking questions. That's good. She trusts you. And you don't make her feel bad for being afraid."

Against him, some of the tension left her. "What would be the point of that? Fear is seldom completely rational, and yet where potentially hazardous weather is concerned, it's not completely irrational."

He smiled, and pressed a kiss against her temple. "We're never going to stop bumping into new things to figure out with them. But you're a good mom."

She looked down at her belly. "That would be a very good thing," she said dryly.


	14. Sinful

Two chapters today means I'll be on the same posting schedule now for here and Bonesology. Much easier to keep track of!

Also, I'm going to try to continue to post one a day, but there may be the odd day or two where it doesn't happen - in which case, I'll try to catch up the following weekend. Thanks for reading!

* * *

~Sinful~

Brennan stirred and woke, momentarily confused. She was on the sofa, covered by the throw, her pen and the anthropology journal she'd been reading now resting next to her on the table.

She'd fallen asleep, which seemed to happen more and more often these days toward the end of her pregnancy. A quick look at her watch told her she'd been asleep for nearly two hours.

Christine was at a play date with Michael Vincent, and noise coming from the kitchen area told her that Booth must be making supper. She sat up and looked over toward him, and was struck by the look on his face. He was yet unaware that she was awake, and his expression was intense, and somehow grim, far more than was warranted by the vegetables he was chopping.

Deliberately, she stretched, and saw him look over at her. Immediately the bleak expression was replaced by a smile. "Hey, Bones. Have a good nap?"

"Yes," she answered him automatically, still distracted by his mood.

"How does Italian vegetable soup and garlic bread sound for supper?"

"It sounds very good." She pushed back the throw, and stood, wondering how to ask about the look he'd been wearing.

Before she could do so, he grinned at her and then pointed to a pan cooling on the counter. "Do you know what that is?"

"How could I, from this distance?" She crossed over to him. "You found a recipe for those chocolate coconut bars?" She'd been craving coconut, and the week before, had discovered a treat in a bakery that combined dark chocolate and coconut. She leaned down and sniffed. "It smells just as good as the one in the bakery."

He dumped the vegetables he'd chopped into a large soup pot, and bumped her hip lightly with his. "Of course it's good. And what else could I do when my pregnant wife is craving a particularly sinful dessert than to figure out how to make it for her?"

His cheerfulness seemed genuine, his delight in the treat authentic. Maybe she'd imagined the sadness. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him. "I'd say such a woman is quite indulged. How long will the soup take?"

"About an hour."

"I'm having one of these bars now, then."


	15. Worthy

~Worthy~

"So how are things going?" Angela settled back on the couch, one ear listening for any sounds of mayhem coming from Christine's bedroom, where the kids were playing.

"Fine."

The automatic tone, one Brennan used when she was too distracted to pay attention to the conversation around her, set off Angela's internal alarms. "Whoa. That didn't sound convincing. Is it Booth?"

"Yes. No. I don't know." Brennan, too, glanced down the hall toward where the kids were.

"Is he gambling again?"

"No." She was definite on that. "No, he's not. There was a falseness about him when he gambling that I'm not seeing now. But he's sad, Angela, He hides it most of the time, and his laughter is genuine when he's playing with Christine or teasing me. But I'll walk in on him when he's alone, and he's just ..." she seemed to struggle for the right term. "Grim."

Angela was quiet for a moment. "He saw himself as your protector. That was his job. And he blew it."

Brennan huffed out a breath of frustration. "He knows I can take care of myself."

"It's not about you. It's about how he sees himself. It's a guy thing, Brennan."

"He's still a good man. I've told him that."

"Maybe it's more than that. Maybe he needs to know why you still need him," Angela said slowly.

"Christine and I both need him, and not just for physical protection."

"I know that, and you know that, but he's a guy. More, he's Booth-guy. Fragile ego tied to seeing himself as hero of the world. Your hero in particular."

"He's worked so hard on his sobriety," Brennan said. "He's always there for me. For us. He is still the same man he was."

"Find a way to let him know."


	16. Luck

~Luck~

Her back to Booth's front, Brennan could feel his heart pounding against her in a rhythm similar to her own as they recovered from their lovemaking. One of his arms was draped over her, the other tucked beneath his head.

As they caught their breath, she laid her hand on top of his, and said, "I have something to say to you."

He nuzzled her hair."What's that?"

"I want you know how much I appreciate you."

He stilled, and then, plainly baffled, asked, "Well, thanks, but...is this about the tire?"

"No. Or only partly. It's about you." She shifted, turned her head so she could see him in the moonlight. "You're always there for us, from indulging my cravings, to reassuring me about my parenting skills, to simply being the kind of father you are with Christine and Parker." She hesitated. "You're working so hard on your sobriety, I don't want you to forget those things."

He tensed, and would have pulled away from her, so she entwined her fingers with his so he couldn't.

"I betrayed you. I lied to you." His entire body was tense behind her.

"Yes. Yes, you did," she said quietly. "You're a gambler. You relapsed, and now you're in recovery. But you've always been a gambler, Booth. And I've always known that. You weren't gambling for the first ten years I knew you; you're not gambling now. It's not all you are."

He didn't say anything, and the quiet and the shadows stretched around them as he gradually relaxed. Finally, he pressed a kiss on her shoulder. "What I am, Bones, is a very lucky man."

"I do not believe in luck, but I believe 'lucky' essentially describes how I feel about having you in my life, in sharing my life with you."


	17. Mute

~Mute~

"What's the matter, Bones?" She was at the table with her laptop, and he'd been watching her, unobserved, for a little while. She'd type quickly for a moment, then frown, then type some more.

"This ignorant person is arguing with me on Twitter. He is remarkably unaware of exactly how uninformed he is."

"Most fools are. Let me see." He came over to stand behind her, and skimmed her feed, watching as several more tweets popped up. Resting his hand on her shoulder, he said, "That's a troll trying to upset you. You're not going to be able to reason with him."

"He's saying that one of the forensic techniques I described in the last Kathy Reichs novel is impossible." She turned and glared at Booth. "Clark and I are currently co-writing a paper about its successful use."

"It's not about facts." He resisted the temptation to smile at her indignation, instead scrolling back through her feed, his humor fading as he noted that some of the tweets stopped just short of threatening. He jotted the user's handle down on the note pad next to her. "There's a way to block or mute them - you know that, right?"

"Yes, but I've not wanted to use it. I don't wish to stifle the exchange of ideas - some of my followers have made interesting observations, and we've had interesting discussions."

He couldn't see how, in 140 word bursts, but stayed focused on the troll. "This isn't about discussion."

"He's wrong."

"Well, yeah." Booth tapped a button and brought up the profile. "He's only following a few people, and all of his Tweets are to or about you. He's trying to get a reaction."

"Why? What is the point of such behavior?"

"No one knows," he said dryly. "At a guess, he just wants to feel important by arguing with a celebrity."

"You're not even on Twitter. How do you know so much about it?"

"I made it my business to figure out the basics when you started tweeting. Block or mute him, Bones. Or at least, stop responding to him and just ignore him."

"Won't he simply create another account, if he's so determined to engage with me?"

"Maybe, but at least you're telling him there are limits to the abuse you'll put up with."

He watched her block the account, and noted her unhappy expression. "Respond to someone else, about old bones or a dig in Gitchegoomee. Don't waste time on the crazy."

She scrolled back through her feed. "Wendell's girlfriend tweeted an article earlier about new research into his cancer."

"Good. Forward it or whatever to the known universe." He dropped a kiss on her head, picked up the paper with the troll's user handle and went to call Aubrey. It was probably nothing more than he'd said, but they'd check it out anyway.

* * *

A/N: For those who might worry, I'm just trying to work in a few slice-of-life moments that aren't part of the other arcs I'm doing, and I figured this was a realistic one - if she's on Twitter, she's dealing with trolls. I may or may not return to the idea later.


	18. Marriage

~Marriage~

Brennan smiled as she took the seat across from Cam at the diner. "It's good to see you."

"You, too. Thanks for coming."

"It feels good to get out of the house, actually," Brennan admitted. "Christine is at preschool, and Booth took possession of the house he's rehabbing this morning."

"How are you doing? How's the little person?"

"I'm fine. The baby is quite active as I approach my due date." She eyed the other woman curiously. "Why did you ask to meet? Is everything okay at the lab?"

Cam smiled. "The lab is fine. We're still adjusting to your being gone, of course-"

"That is only to be expected."

"But I had something more ...personal I wished to ask you. Though if you'd rather not answer, I'll understand."

"That depends on what it is you wish to know."

Cam looked away for a moment, then finally asked, "Why did you change your mind about marriage?"

The waitress - not one she knew - brought Brennan water, and she used the distraction to organize her thoughts. When the young woman walked away, she said, "I do not mind answering the question, but what was true for me will not necessarily parallel your experiences."

"I know, but I'm still interested. Consider it research from a variety of sources."

"Very well." Brennan sipped her water and considered how to answer. "It was a progression, rather than a simple change," she said finally. "When I first met Booth, I didn't believe in love, and even after I changed my mind about that, I was hesitant about commitment. Then, despite having accepted that I was fully committed to him, I still had reservations about marriage."

"I remember some of those transitions. So what changed your mind?"

She studied Cam for a moment, wondering how to concentrate a thousand contributing moments into a coherent response. "First, I came to understand that if there's not one universal definition of marriage - and there's not, as the institution varies from culture to culture - then I was not necessarily subscribing to theories I wasn't comfortable with if I chose to do it."

"Male patriarchal ritual."

"Exactly." She nodded. "Second, I discovered that I wished to affirm that commitment publicly, with vows, before our friends and family. Historically, vows have weight and meaning of their own; viewed in such a way, they can deepen the commitment. As I came to understand how complex was my emotional attachment to Booth, I wanted that." She looked down at her wedding ring for a moment. "And finally, I realized how much it meant to Booth," she said simply. "I'd always known it was a religious sacrament for him, but while he would tease me about it, he never pressured me."

Cam met her eyes in understanding. "That lack of pressure can be very compelling."

"The more I understood how much it meant to him, and that he was willing to forgo it for me, the more I wanted to give it to him."

"When I told Arastoo I'd marry him...it's the happiest I've ever seen him."

Brennan smiled. "Congratulations."

"Yes, well, we've not set a date yet. I will do it, I _want_ to do it, but I'm still working on some of it for myself."

"That is wise. It must be as much for you as for him."

Cam nodded. "It is. It's just ...startling to see that in myself, after believing for so long it wasn't something I would ever want."

"I know exactly what you mean." In complete accord, she met the other woman's smile with one of her own.


	19. Possessed

A/N: "Possessed" only works here if you close your eyes, and, er, squint, and see it as 'possession' instead.

* * *

~Possessed~

Angela pointed her finger at Booth. "Twenty minutes, not a moment longer. Brennan and Christine are already at our house, and the pizza will be there shortly."

He nodded. "I'm just going to lock up. I'll be right behind you."

"I mean it. You don't want me to send Caroline back over here to get you." On that parting shot, she pulled out of the drive and left him alone in the little house. He'd taken possession of it that morning, and even knowing that none of the others would be available to help until later in the day, he'd started to work on it.

He'd been carting crap out to the dumpster he'd rented when Wendell had shown up earlier than expected, claiming it was a quiet day at the lab. He'd had Arastoo with him. Keith and Marcellus had arrived a short while later, and the five of them had not only finished clearing out rubble, but had taken down one of the walls they'd decided needed to go.

And then, to Booth's astonishment, Clark had arrived, with Hodgins and Cam not far behind him, followed in short order by Aubrey and Jessica. Apparently, life in a commune had included demolition work. Who knew?

Caroline had stopped by later with water and a lecture about staying hydrated, and then Angela, Brennan, Daisy and the kids came by, 'just to see.' Oh, and to tell them that pizza - supplied by Caroline - was being delivered to Hodgins and Angela's place at 7PM. That had been met by whoops and laughter, and he'd understood then that that was more than any of them had expected in way of payment. (Which was good, since the only one he'd budgeted for in terms of pay was Wendell.)

His favorite part of the day, though, at least so far, had been watching Keith and Marcellus come to understand that all of these people were there as much for them as for Booth. Keith had tried to make excuses for why they wouldn't join the pizza party, and Angela and Caroline had simply steamrolled over him.

Booth wandered through the house, making certain tools were put away, windows closed, doors locked. It wouldn't always be a group project beyond the four of them, but it felt good, really good, to have started this new venture with his family around, and to have watched that family absorb Keith and Marcellus.

There really was more to life than solving crimes.


	20. Obvious

~Obvious~

Filthy, exhausted, and deeply satisfied, Booth pulled into their drive wanting only a hot shower, a cold beer, and to spend the evening with the two women he loved most. Three days into the rehab, they'd finished gutting it and Wendell was starting to teach Keith about bathroom plumbing, while Booth worked with Marcellus on insulation and dry wall for the load bearing walls they'd left up.

Wendell had commented after the brothers left that Keith had a knack for building, an assessment Booth agreed with. Marcellus was destined for college - Caroline would have his head and possibly other, more vital parts, if he encouraged the teen in any other direction - but Keith's interest, aptitude, and work ethic made Booth wonder if construction might not be a career for him. Something to consider, anyway, particularly when it came time to think about the next rehab.

Right now, though...shower, beer, food, family.

As soon as he walked in, he knew his plans were doomed. The table was set for four, and Christine made a beeline for him in one of her 'fancy dresses' as she called them, only to stop when she saw exactly how dirty he was. "We're having company."

"I see that. Who is it?"

She frowned. "I don't remember his name."

Someone new to her, then. "That's okay. Where's mom?"

"She's taking a shower in the big bathroom. She said that would leave the other one for you."

Amused at the explicit instructions, he nodded, and said, "I'd best do so, then."

When he came back out, Brennan was at the island, tossing salad, a pan of lasagna next to her. She looked up at him and smiled, returning his kiss. "How did your day go?"

"Good. I'll tell you about it later. Who's our dinner guest?"

"Sully."

"'Tim Sullivan' Sully - that Sully?"

"That Sully. He called and said he was in DC and that he'd like to see us, so I invited him to supper."

"It'll be good to catch up with him." He got himself a beer, opened it, took a long drink, and then walked back over to her and rested his hand on her belly. "And the best part is that I'm not remotely worried about you sailing off with him this time."

"You wanted me to go with him."

"Yeah, right," he scoffed. "I told you to go. Not the same thing." At her look, he said, "Of course I didn't want you to go. But what else was I going to say?"

She leaned against him, and he dropped his arm around her to pull her close. "I'm glad I didn't go."

He kissed her, let it linger for a moment, full of promise. "Me, too, Bones. Me, too."


	21. Resign

(A/N: This is a long one, and mocks the idea of a drabble. But hey, math is not my thing...)

~Resign~

"That was amazing lasagna, Tempe." Sully sat back from the table with a satisfied sigh. They'd finished eating, and Christine had retreated to her little table to draw while the three of them lingered over dessert. His expression was thoughtful. "I always knew you two would make a good fit." He grinned at Booth. "Even though you lied to me. Not interested in her, my ass."

Booth very nearly squirmed in response to the look Brennan was giving him. "I didn't lie," he muttered. "I just changed the subject. It was complicated."

"That's your story." With a smirk, he turned and studied their living area. "Nice place you've got here. It suits you. Suits both of you."

"Bones did the decorating," Booth said, choosing not to add that it had been because he'd been in jail. "She did a great job."

"Thank you." Curiosity lit her face as she looked at Sully. "You believed that about Booth and me, even when you and I were together?"

He snorted. "Everyone believed that about the two of you, except the two of you." His impish grin turned fond. "Can't blame me for trying to thwart it."

Sully looked older, Booth thought. But didn't they all? How long had it been, anyway? So many years, so many memories, it took a moment to place it in sequence. They hadn't met Sweets yet, but Zach had been there, so it had been before Gormogon claimed him...ah. Right after Epps' death. Oh, yeah. The clown thing.

"Not my business, but I'm glad you didn't resign immediately." While Booth's mind had wandered, Sully had turned serious. "I heard what they did to you. I was in Puerto Rico by then, and for what it's worth, the bureau guys who knew you...none of them believed it."

"It matters," Booth said. "Thanks."

"I don't understand," Brennan said. "Why say you're glad he didn't resign immediately? You were advocating for a life other than murder investigations eight years ago."

"Because there were some who did believe it," Booth answered for him, his eyes on Sully. "And my hanging around nearly another year after I was cleared, closing cases and training Aubrey made a better argument for my innocence than if I'd left right after Durant's arrest."

"I told them you were no murderer." He looked around again, and smiled over at Christine. "I'm glad you're out of it now."

Booth glanced at Brennan, thought about how close he'd come to murdering Sanderson. "Yeah, I am, too. But you went back to being an agent?"

Sully shrugged. "Spent about four years running the charter, then got wind of a major smuggling op going down from someone at the marina. I called a guy I knew at the Puerto Rico field office to report it, and he hooked me up with DEA. Long story short, I wound up going undercover for them, part of a joint op they put together. After we broke that, it wasn't hard for them to tempt me to come back." He grinned. "Particularly since I'd developed an interest in one of the DEA agents named Diana. We got married last year."

Brennan smiled. "Congratulations."

"That's awesome, Sully." Booth grinned. "She must be quite a woman to take on your flaky ass."

"She considers me a Renaissance man." He laughed, and then shrugged. "I might still open a restaurant some day, or go back to the charter, but right now, it's good being back. Still living on the boat, but we're talking about a house. You want to come down and decorate it for us? Bring the mini-yous - both of them," he said with a glance toward Brennan's belly. "I'd like both of you to meet Diana."

"I'd like that," Brennan said. "I enjoy the Caribbean."

"No reason we can't take you up on that, once the baby's old enough to travel," Booth said.

At a noise, they turned and saw Christine coming toward them. "Daddy says you have a boat, so I drew you a fish."

Sully took the picture, admired the red fish with gold stripes. "I've seen these during night dives. They're called-"

"Squirrelfish. Though they don't look at all like squirrels. I named him Rocky, because that's the best name for a squirrel."

He looked over at Booth and Brennan and laughed. "She's 100% both of you, isn't she?"

Booth shared an amused look with Brennan. "She keeps both of us on our toes. That's for sure."


	22. Switch

~Switch~

"That was an enjoyable evening. It was good to see Sully again." Brennan settled against Booth on the sofa, her hand on his leg.

"As long as it wasn't _too_ good," he said, and gently poked her in the rib.

"You know I want only you."

He pressed a kiss on her temple. "Same goes, Bones."

"I find it interesting that he's rejoined the FBI, given how often he talked about there being limits to how long an individual should do the type of work we were doing."

"Yeah, I didn't expect that," he admitted. "But he's always had lots of interests, so that might be part of it. Plus, he was away from it from four years. Maybe what he needed was a break after his partner died, rather than a permanent change."

She shifted so she could see him better. "Do you think that might be true for us? That we'll want to go back at some point?"

 _No_. The word nearly burst from him before he stifled it. He wasn't the only one here. "I don't know. Do you want it to?"

Her expression thoughtful, she said, "At this point in time, I'm enjoying spending time with you and Christine, writing, and getting ready for the baby. But I believe I'll eventually miss forensic anthropology."

"Of course you will. But your field is more than just catching killers."

"It is," she agreed. "I've also long suspected that much of the appeal for me in the work we've done was working with you."

"Yeah?"

She leaned up, kissed him. "Yes. I've always taken great satisfaction is how synergistic we are, combining our different talents and skills into a whole greater than their individual parts. We're good at catching killers, Booth."

A companionable silence stretched out between them as he considered what she'd said. So many years, so many cases, so many killers. So many victims they'd found justice for, often against incredible odds. "Yeah, we are. Maybe that was even part of why it took so long for it to wear us down. And maybe someday, we'll want to go back to it. But right now? Right now, I'm enjoying our being good at other things together."

"We've made a good start."

"We have. Let me tell what you Wendell said about Keith."

* * *

A/N: I'm glad so many seem to be enjoying this story! Thank you so much for the feedback. It means a lot.

Just wanted to note that I've accepted that I'm not going to be able to keep up the one-a-day schedule I've managed so far (at least not if I want to get anything else done this summer) so I'm going to take the odd day off here or there, while aiming to still post at least 4-5 times a week. So if I miss a day, it doesn't mean I'm abandoning it. The next few chapters are in various stages of completion - I just need a day or two to catch my breath with it. Back soon with what comes next. (Hint...Brennan's very close to her due date.)


	23. Announce

A/N: ...and we're back. Short scene, but this should tell you where we're going this week. The next several are written, so hopefully we'll be on a semi regular schedule after this. Happy Monday!

* * *

~Announce~

Cam heard the click-click-click of shoes heading at a rapid pace toward her office and braced herself. There was no question that it was Angela - Cam had noticed the new heels earlier that day, because, well, shoes. And given the speed with which those shoes were coming toward her, her colleague was excited.

She turned, relieved when the first thing she saw when Angela came through the door was a smile. The other woman had her phone in her hand, and motioned with it. "Brennan's in labor!"

Every thought of shoe envy faded. "Now?"

"Text from Booth, telling me to get my ass over there."

Cam grinned. "Well, what are you waiting for? He did the last one alone. He doesn't want to repeat that." She motioned with her hands. "Go, go! Just remember to call and update us."

"I will. Oh, and Wendell is running the face recognition programs on the victim."

"According to Dr. Hodgins, the remains have been in the basement of that abandoned factory for at least eighteen months. They can wait another day. Go!"

"Thanks. I'll call you as soon as we know something."

She turned to leave, and Cam called her back. "Angela? Where are they? Did Seeley talk her into going to the hospital?"

"Are you kidding? She just told him he should be pleased it was at their house, with a midwife, rather than in a barn." She laughed. "Plus? He's pretty much incapable of saying no to her right now. I'll call you!"

With that, she was gone, and Cam turned back to her own work, amused by the arguments she had no trouble imagining having taken place at Booth and Brennan's house about exactly where baby number two would enter the world.

Brennan had a point. At least it wasn't a barn.


	24. Breathe

~Breathe~

Booth sat on their bed, with Brennan reclining against him between his legs. His arms were around her, her fingers digging into his hands as she waited out another contraction. "Breathe, Bones," he murmured.

"I _am_."

He winced at the tone , and the fingers, but generally counted himself lucky. He didn't know how true to life was the television stereotype of women turning on their partners during childbirth, but Brennan remained steadfastly herself, focused on the task at hand while, so far, at least, resisting threatening him with bodily harm if he ever came near her again. Thank God.

Still, as her fingers dug harder, he wondered if he'd be permanently disabled from it.

The contraction over, she relaxed against him, panting a bit. Unsure what to say to encourage her, he settled for holding her. He wasn't completely sold on the home birth, but he had to admit that there was something peaceful about being in their home with just Angela and the midwife rather than a hospital.

Though it could all still go to hell in seconds, he knew.

They'd survived Christine's birth in a barn. They'd get through this, too. _Our Father, who art in heaven..._

The midwife was a calm, competent young woman named Katie who Booth liked a great deal, despite that she looked to him to be about Parker's age. Brennan trusted her, though, and he knew his wife well enough to know that that trust would not be undeserved.

Right then, she was smiling at Brennan. "Let me see how far that contraction got us."

While she bent to check, Angela, sitting in the chair next to them, handed Brennan a glass of water. "You're doing great, Brennan."

"You're fully dilated. It's about show time," Katie said.

"Do you want to walk some more, Bones?" She'd been alternating between walking and reclining against him when she needed to rest, citing research that showed doing so was better for both mother and baby.

"Yes." She shifted, and he moved his leg to accommodate her as she swung her own over the side of the bed. "But first, please rub my back again." He did so, grateful for something to do that seemed to help.

The walking made sense, but Booth was much less convinced about her plans to be standing when the baby was born. It sounded weird and uncomfortable to him, but Cam had told him there was plenty of research to support it. Angela had settled for pointing out that when _he_ got ready to push a human being out of his body, he could lie down to do so.

"That's better. Thank you. I'm going to walk now." Brennan stood, and left the room. She'd walk throughout the house, then return when she felt another contraction coming on.

Booth, Angela, and Katie stayed where they were, as their going with her irritated her. She'd said she was 'in labor, not disabled' and that was that.

It wasn't that big of a house. They'd hear her if she needed them.

Katie looked over at him. "She's fine. The baby's heartbeat is very strong, and he - or she," she smiled, "is positioned well. We're just about there." She motioned to her phone. "Any hint of that changing, and we'll call 911 and have her at the hospital in minutes."

Booth nodded. "I know."

"You just want it over," Angela said wryly. "You didn't have as much time to worry about it when Christine was born. By the way, where is she? With Max?"

"Yeah." That had been an argument with Brennan he _had_ won - she'd thought Christine was old enough to watch her sibling being born. "She'll be back this evening, though, to meet the baby."

Brennan stepped back into the room right then, bent slightly, her arms around her belly, and said, "I believe the baby is crowning."

"Good!" Katie bent to check, while Booth and Angela both moved to either side of Brennan, supporting her. "You're absolutely right," the midwife added a moment later from her position on the floor. "Do you want to remain standing, or lie down?"

"I want to stand," Brennan said immediately.

Katie smiled and then motioned Booth down to where she was. "You should catch the baby, Daddy. It's not like you've not done it before."

It was a baby, not a football, he nearly said. And he didn't really care who did the catching, as long as someone did and everything was okay. But Brennan was looking at him in that vulnerable way she did sometimes, and he suddenly realized that it mattered a great deal, and not only to her. So he dropped to the floor, and it all happened very fast after that.

A moment or two later, he was holding a shrieking infant while Angela supported Brennan and Katie cut the umbilical cord.

Everything in him went still, and he looked from the baby, to Brennan, who had tears in her eyes, and then back to the baby, aware that his own eyes were moist. "Hello, little one. Welcome to the world."

* * *

A/N: I spent a lot of time trying to work out whether Brennan would be more determined to have a home birth after giving birth the first time in a barn, or less. And somehow, while I could imagine her going both ways, the arguments she was making in my head were stronger for a home birth - possibly helped along by friends of friends who had a home birth at the same time I was writing the first draft of this chapter. In that instance, the woman chose to stand, which started me down the path of research, and well, this is what we wound up with.


	25. Reveal

A/N: I swear it was not my intention to delay so many days before posting this. Life threw stuff, and the week got a way from me. Hopefully another chapter will be along tomorrow - Sunday for sure.

* * *

~Reveal~

Booth and Brennan, the baby cradled in her arms, stepped from the hall into their living area. "Hail, hail, the gang's all here," he murmured to her, in reference to the friends who'd gathered to celebrate - not unlike the night they'd brought Christine home. Then he saw Daisy and little Lance, and grief caught him sideways for a moment. Not completely like that night, after all, as this child would never know and love Sweets the way Christine had. He pushed the thought away, This was a day for celebration.

The crowd was gathered in the kitchen, laughing and talking, and when they turned in response to Cam spying them, he understood why: there was what looked like an enormous amount of food set out on the breakfast bar.

Angela met them with a smug smile. "I told them they could come see the baby, but they had to bring something to eat. No cooking for the two of you for a while."

"Thank you, Angela." Brennan shifted a bit, and hugged Angela with her free arm.

Caroline eyed them. "So are you going to let us see this baby, or not?"

"Angela wouldn't even tell me whether it was a boy or girl." Hodgins' dark look at his wife promised retribution.

Plainly unconcerned, she shrugged, still smiling. "I promised."

Right then, the door opened and Christine and Max came in. The little girl squealed, "Mommy!" and darted across the room toward them.

Booth slipped his arm around Brennan, to brace her in case Christine ran into her, but she stopped a foot away and looked up at the bundle in Brennan's arms, her eyes wide. "Is that the baby?"

As Brennan laughed and nodded, Booth held out his arms, and Christine leaped into them and then studied her sibling with interest. "Is it a girl, or a boy?"

"Yeah, Dad," Hodgins said, laughing at him. "Is it a girl, or a boy?"

Booth and Brennan exchanged a look, and then Booth whispered something to Christine, before nodding to their friends. "Tell them."

Beaming, Christine looked over at the crowd and said, "Our baby is Caroline Cam."

"Camille," Brennan corrected, smiling. "Caroline Camille."

Excitement, some laughter, and cries of 'congratulations' broke out, but Booth focused on Cam. His oldest friend had a stunned look on her face, which gradually gave way to tears as Arastoo, smiling, leaned over and kissed her temple.

When Booth turned to Caroline, she too, was brushing at her eyes, and had to clear her throat before she could speak. "It sure is dusty in here, cherie. Now are you going to let me hold that baby, or not?"

* * *

A/N: Girl! For what it's worth, I think they'll probably have a boy on the show (though I'm often wrong on those kinds of points.) I'm good either way, and had originally planned to have them have a boy in this story, but several others who are doing this challenge went that way, so I decided to mix things up and imagine what it would be like for them to have two girls instead. And then I realized that I quite enjoyed the idea of them honoring Caroline and Cam (as well as liking the alliteration of their two girls being Christine and Caroline) and so Christine got her baby sister, and Booth is surrounded by women most of the time. He's not complaining. LOL.


	26. Companion

~Companion~

"Place this across your lap." Brennan handed Christine a pillow, and then helped her to position it. They were on the sofa, waiting for Booth to return from changing Caroline's diaper.

"It's so she'll be more comfortable."

"That's right." And cushioned, but Brennan didn't say so.

They both looked up as Booth came back into the living room, the baby cradled in his arms. The hours-old infant was awake, and waving one tiny fist. "She'll want to eat shortly, I expect," she cautioned Christine.

"But I can hold her first."

"Yes." Brennan smiled as Booth carefully laid Caroline on the pillow before sitting down on the other side of their daughters. He then slid his hand alongside the pillow, as an extra barrier against mishaps.

Christine studied Caroline, and reached out to touch her hair gently. "Hi, Caroline. I'm Christine. I'm your sister."

The baby turned her unfocused eyes in the direction of the voice, stuck her fist in her mouth and chewed on it thoughtfully.

"When will she be big enough to play with me?" Christine looked from Booth to Brennan.

It would most likely be years before the girls truly had any shared interests, Brennan reflected, but the age gap hadn't stopped her and Russ from bonding, so perhaps that wouldn't be an issue. "In a few months, you'll be able to play with her, though that is not the same thing," she finally said.

"She'll have baby toys," Booth explained. "The kind you used to have."

"But she will enjoy you playing with them with her," Brennan added.

"Oh." Christine pondered the answer, then nodded. "Like I do with Lance sometimes?"

"Exactly like that."

"What about books? Can we read to her now?"

Brennan smiled. "She won't understand the words yet, but I think she'll like hearing our voices."

"Okay. I'll go pick one out."

"Whoa, there, not so fast," Booth said. "Let me take her first." With a grin at Brennan, he picked Caroline up and they watched Christine run toward her room.

Brennan sat back with a contented, if tired, sigh. She was going to enjoy watching the girls grow up together. Then she looked over to see Booth making a funny face at the baby, and smiled. She was going to enjoy their family, period.

* * *

A/N: I confess that this is a bit indulgent. One of my early memories is of holding my newborn brother on a pillow on my lap the night my parents brought him home from the hospital. It was a few weeks shy of my fifth birthday.


	27. Caught

~Caught~

Booth had just closed his eyes when he heard the soft noise, a quiet squeak. He glanced quickly at Brennan, glad the moonlight allowed him to see her chest still rising and falling in an even rhythm. She'd not awakened, then.

The noise came again, a hair louder, and he got up, padded over to the small crib. In a few days, they'd move Caroline to her own room and listen for her through the monitor. But for these first few nights, Brennan wanted her with them.

"Hey there, little one," he said softly. "What's up, huh? We both know you're not hungry." In response, the baby waved her fist at him, and made that little mewling sound again. Booth checked her diaper - dry - and then lifted her to his shoulder. "Maybe just lonely, I'll bet. Must be strange to go from being all tucked up inside mom to this weird place."

Caroline nuzzled against him, and he smiled. "Time for daddy-daughter bonding, I think, so mommy can get more rest." It had only been about 30 minutes since her last feeding, so with luck, Brennan might get another couple of hours or so of sleep before she had to be parent-on-duty.

Collecting a blanket from the crib, he carried Caroline into the living room and settled onto the sofa, the baby on his chest, the blanket over her. "Now, what shall we chat about?" As she rooted around a bit, he began to rub her back soothingly. The quiet was nice, he thought. Now that it was over, he could admit that he rather liked not being in the hospital for the birth. There was something peaceful about not being in a clinical environment or surrounded by strangers.

The baby rubbed her cheek against him and flailed with her hand. He laughed softly and said, "What about a story?" In response, Caroline bumped his hand with her fist again, this time managing to grab his pinkie finger and hang on.

Aware that his heart was already caught, Booth pressed a kiss on her head. "I'll tell you about your mommy. You don't know it yet, but you won the mommy-lottery."


	28. Answer

A/N: Another one that I've been thinking about for a while. Big thanks to Natesmama for the beta read on it. Love you!

* * *

~Answer~

"Daddy?"

"Yeah?"

"How did Caroline get into mommy's uterus?"

Brennan, who had just stepped out of their bedroom and into the hall when she heard the question, froze. She'd been quiet so as not to wake the baby, and now struggled, torn between continuing down the hall to participate in a discussion that was certain to make Booth uncomfortable, and in satisfying her curiosity about what he would say.

It was eavesdropping, and wrong, and ...she couldn't help herself.

"What?" Booth's voice sounded strained.

"Mommy explained how Caroline got out, but how did she get in there?"

Brennan continued quietly down the hall - it wasn't creeping, she told herself, simply walking quietly so as not to wake Caroline.

Very, very quietly.

She reached the place where she could see into the kitchen, and paused, aware that neither of them had yet seen her. Booth was staring at Christine, his expression a bit desperate.

"Um, maybe you should ask mommy."

"Don't you know?"

"I, ah, yes. Yeah, I know." Right at the moment, he sounded like he regretted that fact very much. Brennan watched as rubbed his face with his hands, and then looked down at Christine, his face a study in mortification. After a moment's hesitation, he lifted her up to sit on the counter so they were face to face. "It's hard to explain, though." He paused, plainly searching for the right thing to say, and Brennan started to move toward them, to help. Then Booth huffed out a breath and said, "Girls' and boys' bodies are different."

"Baby Lance has a penis. I have a vagina."

Proud that Christine had remembered the terms, Brennan smiled, then watched as color came into Booth's face. "Yes. Yes, he does. And when they grow up, men and women...ah...put their different bodies together in a certain way, and sometimes a baby begins to grow."

Given Christine's age, he wasn't doing a bad job of explaining it, however miserable he looked, Brennan thought. Her children were truly very fortunate to have him as their father.

"So a boy with a penis could put a baby in my uterus?"

His head snapped up at that. "No! Not for a long time yet," Booth said, sounding like he was strangling. "It's something that grown-ups do, when they love each other very, very much, and want to be together for always."

"Oh. And you did it to mommy? Because you love her?"

Obviously even more uncomfortable at the personal turn of the conversation, he nodded. "That's right."

Christine cocked her head at him. Brennan couldn't see her face - only his - but she could well imagine the expression. "Is it fun?"

At that, Brennan finally took pity on him, and stepped into the room. "It is very pleasurable, Christine. But your father is right. It is much more so when you're older, and there is love." They both turned, watched as she crossed to them. But she was focused on Booth. Full of all she felt for him, she kissed him, let it linger for a moment, then leaned against him as she looked over at their daughter.

Christine had a thoughtful expression on her face. "Are you going to make another baby now?"


	29. Secret

~Secret~

Life was pretty good, Booth thought as he backed out of the driveway of the rehab house. The job was still going well, despite the days he'd taken off to be with Brennan and the girls after Caroline's birth. That he'd been able to do so was due entirely to Wendell, of course, who'd managed to juggle both the lab and helping Marcellus during those days.

And then Brennan had firmly put her foot down, insisting that her former intern was neglecting his dissertation research, and so Booth had gone back to work. He'd not minded, actually. It was good to get back to a normal schedule.

Home was still a priority, though. The last few days, they'd fallen into a routine where they'd spend the morning together as a family before he took Christine to preschool. Then, after putting in a chunk of hours on the house, he'd pick her up his way home.

It was a nearly perfect life, and one he never stopped being grateful for.

He started to make the turn to her school, and then remembered that Brennan had texted him that Max was picking her up early that afternoon. "Nothing to be alarmed over," the follow-up text had said in response to his question about whether everything was okay, and he'd had to be satisfied with that.

But he was curious. He knew something was up; he just didn't know what. For several days now, Christine had been acting weird, clapping her hand over her mouth and giggling - or running away - in the middle of a conversation. Brennan was in on the mystery, but she'd just smiled when he asked her, and used whatever diversionary tactic was available to her to change the subject.

He was a guy. It wasn't hard to divert his attention, even if they couldn't make love yet.

When he pulled into their drive, he saw Max's car. Maybe that meant they were getting ready to let him in on the secret.

He walked into the house, and for a moment, saw only what he expected to see - Brennan on the sofa, holding Caroline, Max laughing with Christine. And then his gaze settled on the unexpectedly tall young man sitting next to Brennan.

 _Parker._

His breath caught as the room went silent as they realized he'd come in. And then Christine barreled toward him. "Daddy! We surprised you with Parker!" He caught her to him, his eyes still on her brother, who was coming toward him, his face split wide with a grin.

For a moment, Booth wondered if Parker would now feel himself too old for a hug, but then his son nearly bowled him - and Christine - over in a fierce, hard, embrace, one Booth was only too happy to return.

God, it felt good.

Over their heads, he watched Brennan coming toward him, Caroline resting on her shoulder. Parker, still hanging onto Booth with one arm, reached out to gently touch his youngest sister's cheek with his other hand.

 _Now_ life was completely perfect.

* * *

A/N: I like that so many of us had the same idea, of a visit from Parker. It also amused me that Frankie707 wrapped up Parker's visit the same week I finally got around to his arrival. (Are you reading her stories? You should be!)


End file.
